


The Anatomy of Flight

by newsbypostcard



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Aviophobia, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:17:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newsbypostcard/pseuds/newsbypostcard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leonard hoped to preserve this memory for the rest of his life: of Jim Kirk looking up at him with loose disbelief, lips parted open, his eyes wide, as devoid of wise guy remarks as he would ever get.</p><p>"You're taking," said Jim, "<em>Piloting I</em>?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Anatomy of Flight

**Author's Note:**

> **((mild beyond spoiler))** \-- was talking to [hyemi](http://peachkissing.tumblr.com/) today ([alice](http://kinneys.tumblr.com) being the other culprit, unsurprisingly) about how bones mccoy might've taken command track while in academy and that's why he knows how to pilot a shuttle like a fucking badass. here's a brief origin story from third year academy, then.

  


  


  


Leonard hoped to preserve this memory for the rest of his life: of Jim Kirk looking up at him with loose disbelief, lips parted open, his eyes wide, as devoid of wise guy remarks as he would ever get.

"You're taking," said Jim, " _Piloting I_?"

For all that Jim was disarmed, Leonard was plenty disarmed himself. He looked at Jim and saw hope steepling dumbly at his brow, and he realized at once he'd take a thousand piloting classes just to see that shit again.

"Don't get ideas," Leonard said, to himself as much as to Jim. "It's contingency planning."

Jim's bewilderment was shortlived. It evolved too quickly into something annoying and alluring, taking hold of his lips. "Contingency for _what_ , Bones?"

"Never you mind."

"For when we're _stuck in space together?_ "

Leonard's gut still contracted, every time. He wasn't sure he'd ever get over that. "For when you inevitably get yourself knocked unconscious. _Someone's_ gotta pilot the ship."

He must've had the universe on his side, because Jim's face went suddenly slack again. "You mean when I'm … Captain?" Jim's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You feeling okay, Bones?"

 _Possible I've lost my entire damn mind, but apart from that…_ "Listen -- _you_ set me up for this. Barged into _my_ life, dragged me along on your _insane_ plan to make it through academy in three years--"

"You did that yourself," Jim said, turning Leonard's schedule over in his hands as though expecting there to be something different on the other side of the PADD. "Bones -- you're in Piloting I."

"Yeah," Leonard said, his eyelids flickering with annoyance. "And?"

"I took Piloting I last year."

"I know. I remember. It was a disaster."

"It wasn't a _disaster_."

"Someone _else_ exploded a simulator pod?"

"I didn't _explode a_ \-- Piloting I is restricted, Bones."

Leonard sighed and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah."

"It's restricted to people in command track."

"Yeah, Jim. It is."

"But you're taking it."

Leonard blinked, slowly and steadily, and opted for pointed silence.

"So…" Jim stared at him. He clearly wanted Leonard to be the one to say it. Leonard could've drawn it out, but something about that _look_ in Jim's eye had left him feeling generous. 

"I enrolled in command track," said Leonard.

It wasn't shock on Jim's face anymore. Leonard wasn't sure what it was.

"Are you being serious?"

"Official as of last week."

"So you're--" Jim shut his eyes; cut his gaze away, almost as though embarrassed. "You're not only actually gonna complete academy training in three years, complete with xenobiology residency -- like I fucking _dared_ you to -- but you're actually gonna complete command track in a year on top of it?"

Leonard shrugged. "Yeah."

"You're never gonna sleep again, is what you're saying."

"Sounds about right."

Jim put the PADD down hard on the desk. There was a crease to his brow Leonard rarely saw, but that generally offered him a shred of hope that Jim actually _was_ capable of taking a damn thing seriously. 

"Why?" he asked, incredulity tugging at the corners of his eyes.

Leonard took a slow breath in; set his eyelashes low on his cheeks. "Because -- if you're serious about my being your second-in-command on whatever hell ship they try to give us -- I'm gonna have to know how to fly the damn thing."

When he opened his eyes again, he found Jim still staring through narrowed eyes. "You're saying I shit-talked you into command track."

Well … it wasn't _in_ accurate. "Guess so."

Jim stared on, without a hint of mockery. Leonard was starting to get concerned.

"Are we really gonna do this?" Jim asked at last. It was almost as though he hadn't ever really thought it might be possible before now.

And if only because he'd asked himself the same damn question once an hour for the past two years, Leonard's answer was already forming. "Looks like we're gonna try our best at it, anyway, Jim."

Jim's face went slack again, except for the tiniest crease at his brow.

"Will you fuck me into the bed?" Jim asked, when he located his voice.

"Immediately," said Leonard, "if so desired."

Jim's shirt was already off by the time he reached him, so Leonard took that to mean that he did.

  


  


  


_Piloting I_ was handily the worst part of Leonard's week.

He had a lot of natural talents but piloting, it would seem, was never one of them. Determined to improve, he went to the simulation lab daily. It didn't matter the circumstance; he'd go after long surgery shifts, or when he hadn't slept for a day. He went purposefully when he knew no one else would be there -- sometimes took over Jim's ID number, and Uhura's, and Chapel's, and six others just to be able to book all the pods. He wanted to be sure he wouldn't be interrupted. He needed to be focused. 

He ran himself through the checklist each time. Pressure. Gauge. Map. Switch. Switch. Switch. He learned the steps as though they were surgical, as though the sim pod was a patient; as though the flight was the same sort of marathon of prep and precision and method and steadiness. Leonard practiced and practiced, learned technique and environment, until the motions formed in muscle memory. Eventually he could get through almost every simulation without hitting a goddamn thing, without even thinking about it.

Still, when Leonard looked up to see Jim watching him from the corner of the lab one night around 0200, he felt inexplicable anxiety at having been watched.

Leonard stared at him, forced motionless by the rigidity of dread. Heat crept up the back of his neck, into his ears.

"You're pretty good," said Jim.

Immediately, Leonard's alarm at being found out had been replaced by mounting annoyance. "How long you been standing there?"

"Twenty minutes."

"So you haven't been following me here for the last eight weeks."

Jim hedged. "Not _eight_ weeks."

"You can't let me have one damn thing to myself, can you."

"I still don't have much of a knack for surgery, despite efforts." Leonard glared; Jim smiled. "I do notice when you're not there at night, contrary to your hilarious belief in your own stealth."

"And here I thought you reclined into full unconsciousness when you deigned to go to sleep for your requisite four hours."

"You're not gonna deflect your way out of this. Besides that, you've been lucky to get three a night, and _I'm_ not pretending to save lives every day."

"Yeah, well. I'm a busy man."

A flicker to Jim's smile, something drawing it broader before it subdued back again. "You're gonna pass, Bones."

Leonard opened his mouth to give an icy retort, but his jaw shuttered closed when his voice died in his throat. Stims coursed through him, heart beating too fast. 

"I'm not good enough," he managed eventually.

"You're a doctor, not a pilot. It's good enough for a CMO. Hell, if CMOs ruled the 'verse you'd be the best pilot there."

"CMOs do rule the 'verse," Leonard muttered.

"You only wish they did."

"I suppose you think _you_ rule it."

"All in good time, Bones."

Something about it forced Leonard's cheeks to pinch in frustration. "Go to bed, Jim."

"You first."

"I'm not done."

"You're done. Let's go."

Worse than the fact that Jim's tone sounded like his own was the fact that it very nearly _worked._ "Fancy yourself a captain already, do you?"

"You know who holds the best record on this thing?"

"Let me guess -- you?"

" _No._ I'm not a pilot either." A thin smile. "I don't have to be the best at this, and neither do you."

It was almost a nuanced argument. Leonard felt himself deflate, just a bit.

"It belongs to some asshole named Sulu," Jim continued. "Can't track him down to ask him what his trick was, guy's two years out of the academy already and he won't respond to any of my fight requests--"

"Jim."

"-- but the point is that I passed fine without perfecting it, and so will you. Now let's get out of here, Bones. You look like shit."

Leonard stared at him. Jim's eyebrows steepled higher on his forehead as he gestured out the door.

"It only takes one mistake," Leonard ground out, eventually.

Jim dropped his hand and sighed, turning back to him. "Yeah," Jim agreed. "But you won't be the one flying."

"Until I am."

"Not gonna happen."

"What, because you're so stable?"

A flicker of annoyance. "I'm good at what I do, first of all, and I think you're forgetting that I'll be the one in the chair."

"Eventually."

An aborted sigh. "Okay, you know who _does_ hold the best record in Space Invaders?"

"Please, I am begging you -- stop referring to weapons simulations like they're video games."

"Me. It's me. I hold the best record in Space Invaders."

" _Jim,_ " then, quieter -- "you probably hacked it, anyhow."

"I didn't hack it. I'm actually that good. They're gonna put me in gun crew regardless of what I want, Bones, you know that. You're not thinking straight. Let's get out of here."

"No thanks. You go ahead."

Jim sighed. " _Bones._ "

"Jim--" he began; and when his anger echoed clearly through the lab, Leonard shut his eyes and took a steadying breath. "Listen. You, by some genetic or intellectual flaw, actually _want_ to go up there. The rest of us, meanwhile, are scared shitless."

"I think your proportions are a little off as to who in Starfleet does and does not like space, but I'm not actually ignorant to the fact that you're scared shitless, Bones."

"I have to get this right."

"No you don't. Sulu, that bastard, wherever he may be, has it right for you. You just have to be a good doctor, and you're a great doctor, so you're set."

"All it takes is--"

"One tiny crack in the hull," Jim finished for him. "But it's not gonna happen."

"It might," Leonard pressed on through gritted teeth, "if I'm the one at the helm and I can't figure out how to dodge a damn space rock."

" _Space rock._ "

"You know what I mean."

"I do, and it's still ridiculous. Bones, come _on_."

But when Leonard turned away from him -- when he clenched a fist around the accelerator as his other hand went through the motions of takeoff, _pressure, gauge, map, switch_ \-- Jim appeared by his side, instead of going away like he was supposed to.

His hand wrapped around Leonard's; held the accelerator steady, halting his process. "Bones."

Very, very slowly, guided by anger or stims, Leonard turned to glare at Jim out of the corner of his eye. "Let go of my hand."

"No."

" _Jim--_ "

"Move over," Jim said; and when Leonard raised his head more fully in confusion, he was met with some bizarre sincerity, a clarity in his eyes. "Let me show you something."

Leonard remained suspicious; was sure his gaze said as much. "What kind of thing."

"You're good, Bones, I meant that. But you make the same mistake over and over again, in the sim with the debris field. You gotta think outside the box."

"It's a literal -- box, Jim. It's a six by ten window. There are only three dimensions, I fail to see--"

"You're acting like the shuttle's the only thing moving."

"It _is_ the only thing--"

"Move," Jim said slowly, "over."

Leonard blinked at him, then gestured at himself. "Where. It's a one-person pod."

"I don't know how you function, I really don't. Shove forward."

" _Shove forward?_ "

"Do you want me to show you how to get better at this or not?"

Leonard glared, but then he did as Jim asked. Predictably, Jim stepped over him and settled himself snug behind him, and even more predictably hummed in contentment a second later. He snaked one arm to hold tight around Leonard's torso, the other wrapping over his hand where it rested on the accelerator, and his lips found Leonard's neck like they belonged. "Lean back. I can't see the screen."

Leonard's gaze found the ceiling, but then, without even thinking, he did that too. "I don't know what I expected."

"Could've sat on your lap instead, but I know how you get when I'm sitting on your dick."

"Jim."

"Figured it'd be harder to pilot when you're -- you know -- _harder_ \--"

" _Jim._ "

"What, you wanna switch after all?"

"No. No I do not."

With Jim's jaw set against the side of his face like that, Leonard could feel the pull of his muscles when he smiled. "Stop complaining, then. Come on, power us up."

Even with his knees crowded hard against the dashboard, with Jim close and hot behind him and around him, Leonard managed to remember how to get the shuttle in the air.

Jim's other hand folded over where his grasped at the controls, and guided him through it.

There was a lot that was annoying about the situation, but the thing that struck him most pressingly was that he was actually learning something. Even though it was two in the morning -- even though it was James T. Kirk, agitation in human form, guiding his movements -- Leonard could feel the difference in how smooth the ride was. Caught between focus and relaxation, Jim guided him so flawlessly into taking the turns, dodging the obstacles, handling the weapons that Leonard could've sworn he wasn't even driving. There was so much less tension to it, so much less turbulence with Jim's hands wrapped around him, that Leonard felt himself relaxing just from the points of contact between them.

"Here," Jim muttered, breath hot by his temple. "Unclench your hands, Bones, let me drive. Remember how I move."

Leonard did. Still set over his, Jim's hands took control. The familiar sway set in, the shields were on schedule; then, where Leonard always accelerated to invariably clip a chunk of incoming debris, Jim held back, shifting down to mid-pulse.

"Klingons," Leonard muttered, warning.

"They don't predict you would slow down while being pursued."

He was right. The ion bursts that usually appeared to the right of the shuttle exploded further forward instead. The piece of debris that Leonard always clipped had crossed direct into the line of fire and disintegrated, and Jim accelerated quickly in the next moment, the next Klingon fire exploding far behind them.

"See? The simulation might make adjustments, but you can still use what you know about the environment to find solutions."

Leonard's pulse was suddenly in his throat. "There won't be time to learn the environment," he said eventually. "Up there."

"I'm willing to bet you thought the same thing in your first surgery."

It was an annoyingly perfect analogy. Leonard ground his teeth into powder.

"Yeah, yeah," Jim muttered, apparently feeling the gesture reverberate through his bones. "You wanna get it right anyway. I get you, Bones. We're not so different, you and me."

"Lord. Take it back."

A smile; his cheek high against Leonard's skin. "You're actually _worse_ than me, you know that? Who the hell takes on command training when they don't even want to be captain? You're already a surgeon, for Christ's sake. Don't you have a PhD on top of all that?"

"For all the good it does me."

"You sure do like those credentials."

"Just trying to keep my options open."

"Yeah. Trying to get on my ship through any means possible. Please, Bones, really -- it's too much."

Leonard was so tired, and the statement so honest, that he came up short for a reply.

Finally, after seconds of drawing silence, Jim shifted with a telling suddenness. "Jesus, Bones. That was a joke."

"I know it was a joke."

Another pause, then -- "That's not... actually it, is it?"

Sure was lucky Jim never quit driving, because Leonard's eyes closed of their own accord. "What?" he muttered, finding peculiar solace in the gentle push of Jim's hand at the accelerator. "You didn't hear me the first time?"

"When you said--" But then Jim stopped abruptly, as though struck. Leonard felt it; frowned; tried to smack life back into him with his shoulderblade against Jim's chest.

"Pray tell, Jim, when you start crowing off about three years and captaining a starship, do you ever mean a single word of it? Because every time I try to take you seriously--"

"I mean it, Bones." Sincerity flooded his voice, a delayed reaction, and Leonard felt himself relax. "I just didn't realize you weren't just -- indulging me."

"I am indulging you. Doesn't mean I don't also take you for serious."

He felt Jim's heartbeat, now, instead of his own; but the moment was ruined when he felt something else against his back, instead.

Leonard's eyes found the ceiling. "Are you getting off on this."

"Uhh, yeah." A nervous laugh, wrested out of honesty. "Sorry, Bones. You actually believe in -- this."

"Well, yeah."

"You're damn near killing yourself to make my insane plan work."

"Seems like a generous assessment of your ability to encourage more in me than the ripe fury of righteousness, but generally, yes."

Jim's hands held steady on the controls, but his hips shifted, just incrementally. A break in his throat followed close behind.

 _Only Jim,_ he thought, then said, "Land this thing, would you?" He withdrew his hands out from under Jim's; and the space was tight, no doubt about that, but he still found a way to slip to his knees, undoing Jim's pants amidst wordless inquisitive sounds from out of his throat.

"Me?" Jim managed weakly. " _I_ ruin simulation pods?"

"You do." Leonard took his dick in hand; stoked it once, then twice, just to watch Jim shudder in the chair all over again. "And you can bet I'll blame this one on you if pressed enough, too, so hold it together, would you?"

Jim's reply was lost in a trailing moan as Leonard sealed his mouth around his dick, and when he looked up to lock eyes with Jim as he pushed down and then up again, the sound grew long, filled Leonard's chest, until Jim had to look away to land the simulation. His hips bucked, and Leonard took him in, if measuredly, carefully, until Jim had set them down; and by the time Jim was coming they were left gripping at each other, certain and firm, as though this was the only place either of them ever cared to be.

  


  


  


They only really ruined the _one_ shuttle the whole semester that followed, even with Jim's regular 'lessons' through Piloting II.

They both, in the end, agreed that command track was totally worth it.

  


  



End file.
